


Distraction

by jakkusstoryteller



Category: Mafia (Video Games)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Female Character of Color, Fun times in the kitchen, Her parents disapprove, John Donovan and the Reader are hella in love, John doesn't give a shit, Mild Sexual Content, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2016-12-11
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:02:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 813
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8814364
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jakkusstoryteller/pseuds/jakkusstoryteller
Summary: You invited your parents over for dinner. John is a distraction. A very pleasurable distraction.





	

“John! Stop primping in the bathroom and set up the table! My hands are full with this spaghetti!” You shout. Dinner with your parents had been your idea. A desperate attempt to close the rift between them…and your boyfriend, John Donovan. You wanted the two most important people in your life to see him as more than just a troublemaking white boy who seduced their only daughter.  _A decent black girl who had no business shacking up with him in the first place._ Your mother's words, not yours.

 _‘Perfect,’_ you think, as you sprinkle some pepper in the large pot of spaghetti.  _‘Everything has to be perfect.’_ John didn’t give two shits about impressing your parents. In fact, he had been completely against the idea of inviting your folks over, but only caved when you made him sleep on the couch for a week. 

“John! Are you done?” Honestly, that man was doing this on purpose! Chuckling under his breath, John stepped from out of the bathroom, still in the process of pulling his simple white t-shirt down over his muscular chest and abdomen. You blush when your eyes catch a glimpse of his smooth skin and a delicious trail of light blonde hair when he tucked the tight-fitting shirt into his pants. His steel blue eyes honed in on you as he walked into the kitchen. Maybe it was the piercing look in his eyes, a constant reminder of his former job as a CIA Operative, that gave his approach a thrilling hint of danger… 

…Or maybe it was the way his chapped lips pulled up into the kind of smirk that usually ended with you bent over the dinner table, the kitchen sink, or pressed up against the wall. Everywhere but the bed. Without a word, the blonde stalked over to you and gripped the counter on either side of you, hemming your body in. Your embarrassed, but you can’t help but roll your hips forward, loving the way they pressed against his muscular thighs. “If we wait any longer dinner will get cold,” you whine. Any longer and your parents will invite themselves in and catch you both humping like rabbits. Any longer and you'll never be able to look them in the eye again.

John’s hands still gripped the counter, but now they were slowly sliding along the metal trim, both of them reaching your hips simultaneously.  His hands briefly cup your curves as they moved upward, and then encircled your waist. The weight of them resting there was just as potent as a caress, maybe more so; it was a silent reminder of everything he could do to you to make you scream his name. 

Leaning down to press a soft kiss on your warm cheek, John grinned, heedless of the scolding look on your face. “And I’ve told you, baby girl, that if you intend to make me sit through a quiet dinner with you and your parents, I’m going to need something to look forward to besides cold stares from your mother and blatant disapproval from your old man. I get enough of that bullshit from the Padre.” 

His calloused hands began to make small smoothing motions over your hips, as if he were fixing your skirt or contemplating taking it off. You never know with him. John was an enigma, a shady man with an equally shady past. He’s told you every good and rotten thing that he’s ever done, but still couldn’t bring himself to talk about his family. Every attempt at getting him to open up about his childhood had been met with failure and a tense silence between the two of you that would last for days.

You make an incredulous noise and push at his solid shoulder. “John, let go! I have to get back to heating this spaghetti!” Another smirk and a gentle squeeze renders you silent.

“Give me a kiss and maybe I’ll help you set up the table.” Before you can utter another half-hearted protest, his mouth crashes against yours. Both your front teeth clank together and the press of John’s lips and the slide of his tongue make your body tremble and your toes curl.

His fingers inched your skirt up your thighs.  “The fucking spaghetti can wait,” he growls as he presses you into the counter and began kissing his way down the soft column of your neck. His mouth trailing kisses down to your heaving breasts, lips wrapping around a covered nipple.  Unable to resist his heated onslaught on your skin, you tug the ends of his t-shirt from out his pants and run your hands over the warm swath of skin he had flashed earlier. 

“Five minutes,” you pant. “Five minutes and you can help me set up the table AND play nice with my parents. Deal?”

A grin and a wink.

“Deal.”

**Author's Note:**

> John Donovan in an interracial relationship and not caring what the Reader's parents think about them gives me life. 
> 
> The kitchen is also Donovan's favorite place in the house because he low-key likes to watch the reader move around the kitchen making coffee, reading, etc. 
> 
> The two are also not married yet and that really pisses off the parents...so yeah. John's not their favorite person at the moment.


End file.
